"So you're saying you grew a whole 'nother person out a larva?" Trip asked, sitting on a biobed as Doctor Phlox finished his scans.
"A facsimile of a person, or at least, that's what I thought at the time."
"Well, tell me about him." Trip pressed when Phox didn't say any more. "He did save my life."
"Treating you was the very purpose of growing him."
"I suppose, but who was he? For that matter, what was he? Now, I didn't get to spend any time with him, but I got a pretty good look during that funeral, and I swear it was looking at my own face. How'd he get to be like that?"
"Lyssarian clones are quite detailed. He didn't just have your appearance and the tissue for transplant, he also had your memories. He grew to be a fine young man, very human in fact."
"Very human." Trip thought on that. "I guess I was kind of picturing a little Lyssarian me running around underfoot like one of your creatures got out of its cage."
Phlox's expression softened. "Hardly. In fact, he was excellent company. I found myself quite enjoying the time we spent together."
"Did he take some kind of interest in medicine? I don't know, become an assistant around here?"
"It was the equipment that fascinated him." Phlox chuckled. "He took apart quite a few things, but there was no harm in the end. It wasn't long before he was old enough to figure out how to put it all back together."
Trip smiled at that. He could picture himself sheepishly fixing something he'd broke, and wondered if Sim got embarassed the same way.
"I think it's fair to say the two of you had a lot in common." Phlox added.
Phlox looked away for a moment, a flicker of sadness in his eyes. "I admit I, uh... found it difficult when I realized Sim wouldn't survive the transplant. I hope you don't take that as my having anything against you."
If anything, it gave Trip some relief to know Sim had been more than a medical procedure.
"Not at all, Doc." Trip got up, deciding it was time to give the Doctor some space.
Phlox stopped him. "Thank you Commander, for this talk. I found it... well, thank you."
XXXXXXXXXX
"Commander. I've been expecting you." T'Pol stepped back from the doorway, allowing him into her quarters.
"Ah, I heard through the grapevine Sim considered you... something of a mentor, I guess?" Trip stopped himself from saying 'friend', though he couldn't say for certain why. "I suppose you've already figured out why I'm here, asking around."
"Your curiousity is understandable." T'Pol said. "Please, sit down."
Trip sat on the edge of her bed, but the familiarity of it somehow made him less comfortable. He spoke slowly, trying to sort out what he meant to say. "Has he ever been here?"
"If you're asking if he's ever been in my quarters, the answer is yes. He has."
What he wondered was if Sim ever sat here, performing neuropressure on T'Pol, but the question made a whole pile of feelings tumble over each other, feelings he couldn't readily explain or rationalize. T'Pol seemed undisturbed by the silence between them, and he couldn't tell if that was her damned Vulcan facade, or if she was giving him space to think.
"He knew everything there is to know about me, and I don't know a thing about him." Trip said at length.
"I suspect you know more than you realize." T'Pol gave a slow blink that left him wondering if she was trying to convey something, or if she had something to hide.
"Promise not to say anything to Phlox?" Trip asked.
"Of course."
"I'm glad to be alive and all, but the idea of it being at the expense of someone else is a little hard to sit with. Maybe Sim and I were the same, but who knows who he would have been if he'd got to keep living, even grow old? He gave up his whole life."
"He would not have lived for much longer." Though T'Pol's expression didn't change, she seemed to understand something in his. She clarified, "Lyssarians have a short life span."
"Yeah, well, that doesn't make me feel a whole lot better."
Trip went quiet again. As much as he'd come to trust T'Pol, he wondered if it he was being unfair asking a Vulcan to help with his feelings.
"Maybe I don't know what I'm asking." Trip got up to leave.
"I believe you may be asking yourself if his sacrificing his final days was worth your life." T'Pol said, making him freeze in his tracks.
"Vulcans do not believe in such trades. The needs of the many outweigh the one, but the needs of one do not outweigh those of one other. Still, every individual has the right to spend their life saving others, even give their life if that is their choice. If I were asked if Sim giving his life to you was worthwhile, I believe it was."
Trip tried to weigh her words, and to weigh Sim's life against his own. He wasn't sure how the scales balanced. Coming from T'Pol, there must be some kind of logic at work, he didn't think he could parse it out himself. He decided instead to take her words as a kindness.
"Thanks," he said.
XXXXXXXXXX
"I hear you've been asking a lot of questions about Sim." There was a hardness to Archer's voice that Trip couldn't reason out.
"Well, the first and last I ever knew of him was a funeral of some guy with my face. It tends to make a person wonder." Trip waited for Archer to say something, and went on when he didn't. "Who was he, really? What did he do while he was growing up with my memories and living my life here on Enterprise? Now I don't just mean what he did around the ship, which I'm starting to feel was a lot. I mean, who was he, as a person?"
"He lived his life knowing he was going to die for me." Trip looked from the empty air in front of him to his empty hands. "Truth is, I still can't imagine how he could go through with it. People keep telling me we were alike, but there must have been something different. We all know we're going to die, but the thought of not being here... I'm not sure I could face it, if you put me in his place."
"I like to think it was the right decision." Archer said guardedly.
"I mean, I'm grateful to him. But that's the whole point, isn't it? I might not of been awake for any of it, but how can I ask someone else to trade his life for mine? I'm here and he's not. What kind of person does that make me? What kind of person does that make him?"
There was a play of emotion across Archer's face that he tried to keep locked behind a tight jaw, a mix of guilt and loss, of frustration and even anger. Archer didn't look like he knew for sure where to direct those feelings.
When he finally spoke, he said "Sim was a good kid. A good man."